Just Breathe Deep
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: Illya has a really bad stomach ache and Napoleon can't stop cracking jokes - slash implied


"Ungh."

The sound was soft, but enough to make Napoleon's eyes shoot open. There weren't many things that could bring him out of a deep sleep, but that was one of them - Illya in pain, not a good thing ever.

In the darkness of their bedroom, Napoleon could see his partner as nothing more than a black lump huddled over on one side of the bed.

"Illya? What's wrong?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Well you did, so what's wrong?"

"Just a really bad stomach ache," Illya broke off and took a deep breath. "It comes and goes."

"Something finally decided to fight back, did it? What did you eat tonight?"

"Ah… a salad, steak, my vegetable, your vegetable, some bread, dessert-"

"My dessert… most of my appetizer and some of my dinner… why you never gain weight is a mystery of modern science."

"…Your dessert, eiiii." Illya crunched into a tighter ball. "I feel like my gut's on fire."

"It's a wonder you're not exploding. I'll go get you something." Napoleon joked and reached out to pat Illya's shoulder. That's when the smile fell from his face. "Illya, you're burning up."

"That, as well." He suddenly relaxed, panting.

"Have you vomited?"

"It's not that kind of pain…" Illya gasped. "It's worse…"

"I'm calling Medical." Napoleon snapped on the light and blinked painfully at the sudden brightness. Illya merely retreated further into the blankets and made a soft noise of discomfort. The fact that Illya didn't immediately argue with him, didn't protest, insisting that he was fine, sang volumes to Napoleon.

He talked quietly with the doctor who answered and then capped the communicator.

"Illya?"

"Yes?"

"The doctor I spoke with seems to think you need to come in. Do you want an ambulance?"

"I'd rather be dragged naked behind a donkey cart."

"I thought as much. Let's get you dressed."

Napoleon glanced at his watch and then down the empty corridor. The clock on the wall confirmed that it was just past six. The doctor had taken one look at Illya, paled and started making calls. Within fifteen minutes, Illya was being wheeled away on a gurney, leaving a gape-mouthed Napoleon in his wake.

Granted Illya had been almost silent on their way in, never criticizing or making subtle jibes at his driving. He sat, hunched over, face frozen in a frown, panting occasionally. Napoleon looked at his watch again and sighed. Another hour and he'd have to head upstairs. He ran a hand over his unshaven face and sighed. Perhaps he'd better stop in the locker room first for a fast shave. He shifted on the ugly green vinyl couch and tried to get comfortable.

A cup of coffee appeared before his nose and he startled, looking up at the doctor. He hadn't even realized he'd nodded off. A quick glance to the clock made him also gasp. Three hours. He sat up and winced at the crick in his neck. "What's wrong? Is Illya okay?"

"Nothing's wrong, I thought you could use that. Mr. Kuryakin is fine."

"What's wrong with him? Was he poisoned? Delayed reaction to some drug or injury?"

The doctor reached into the pocket of his white jacket and pulled out a small glass jar. In the clear fluid was a round object about the size of a small pearl.

"That was Mr. Kuryakin's problem. A kidney stone."

"That's all? It's so small."

"Spoken like a man who's never had one." The doctor held the jar up to the light and swirled the contents around. "One this size, Mr. Kuryakin probably felt like he was trying to pass a freight train."

"Okay, Doc, it's late or rather early. What do you mean?"

"A male urethra is about…" He paused and thought for a moment, then held up the small plastic stirrer in Napoleon's coffee. "About the dimension of this, or even a little smaller actually. Now, for just an instant, imagine having something this size…" he indicated the kidney stone, "… passing through this." He held the jar next to the stirrer.

"Tight fit…" Napoleon made a face and crossed his legs.

"As close to having labor as a man can come. And we won't even talk about the probe we use to determine that it is a kidney stone. We finally had to knock him out as there's really nothing you can do except let it work its way out."

"But he's okay?"

"He'll be a little uncomfortable for awhile, but with an increase in his liquid intake, he should be fine. He'll have to watch it because once you get kidney stones, there's always a future risk. He's dressing now. I'd like to see him again in a few hours, just to make sure everything is fine."

"Could I have that, Doc?" Napoleon nodded to the jar and the doctor hunched his shoulders.

"I don't see why not. Mr. Kuryakin didn't want it. He's just changing now. He's still in some discomfort and a little groggy, so keep that in mind. No gym time and no physical exertion of any kind for the next few hours, not that he's going to feel like it."

As if aware of their talking about him, Illya appeared, swaying slightly as he tried to walk. He looked a little tired, but otherwise fine, the doctor stood to catch his elbow. "Lots of water today, even though you aren't going to want to, and take those pills if you need to. Come back here later before you head home… Mr. Kuryakin, that's not a suggestion."

Illya nodded. "I understand . Thank you, Dr. Stephens."

"Not a problem. I'm just glad that's all it was."

For a long time, Napoleon didn't say anything, he just watched Illya out of the corner of his eye. Finally Illya closed the report he'd been working on with a slap.

"All right, Napoleon, what is wrong?"

"Well, the Doctor said that passing a kidney stone was a little like having a baby."

"An unfortunate description. Why?"

"I just wish I'd known; I'd have thrown you a shower or something. Gotten you something special for your bouncing baby…"

"You're lucky I'm still half tranquilized, or I would be pulling your tongue from your mouth. Drop it."

"…Or at least buy you a drink at the Stork Club." He pulled the jar from his jacket pocket and regarded the small stone soberly. "Would you say it looks more like you or its mother?"

"Don't give up your day job, Napoleon, you're a lousy comedian."

"Sure it wouldn't interfere with the feedings? Or are you going to bottle feed instead?" Napoleon just couldn't help it. The snide comments just tumbled out of him, one after the other, for much of the afternoon. With each one, Illya's face and mood grew a little darker. Napoleon knew better, knew he should stop, but he couldn't. he kept on until Illya finally stood and slapped his desk with a hand.

"Enough!"

"I'm sorry, I can't help it… Mommy"

"Try harder. I'll be back"

With that, Illya disappeared, returning minutes later with two cups of coffee. Napoleon sipped his and decided it was only coffee in the faintest sense of the word. "This is awful. What are they making it with, old dish water?"

"It's not that bad."

"Well, they say that after you give birth, your whole body chemistry is altered." Napoleon finished the coffee, swallowing it without tasting it any more than possible. He placated himself by admitting he was only doing it for the caffeine.

Illya sighed and tapped his pencil eraser upon the desk. "Napoleon, remember that time in Bangkok, when you spent the night with that young lady?"

"Yes?"

"Remember who got you the penicillin you needed to fix that little problem?"

"I do."

"And Waverly never found out about it."

"He didn't and for that I thank you." Napoleon sighed and set the jar down. "Point taken. Still, I couldn't resist having a little fun. You did cost me a night's sleep."

"As opposed to what I was experiencing."

"Still, you should at least give it a name so we can give it a proper funeral." Napoleon sloshed the liquid around, the jar making a soft grumble as it moved against the metal top of the desk. "Rocky? Stone?"

"Dead Man Walking?" Illya stood, his face set.

"It was just a joke, partner." Napoleon wiped his face with a hand. He was feeling decidedly odd, a little feverish and the coffee was churning in his stomach. That was odd; he never had trouble with coffee before, not even the Canteen's lousy interpretation of it.

He was feeling so strange that he almost missed Illya's softly threatening, "And do you see** me** laughing, partner?"

"Ah…no, now that you mention it." In fact, Napoleon paused, frowning a little at the stab of pain in his lower back. Immediately, Illya's tone changed.

"Napoleon, something wrong?"

"I seem to be having sympathy pains." Napoleon winced. He eased down into the chair and massaged his back. "What were your symptoms?"

"Fever, nausea, lower back pains to start, getting worse as the stone started to travel."

At the twinge of pain, Napoleon grimaced. "Yeah, that would be it."

"Never let it be said that neither Section Eight nor I don't have a sense of humor. They can concoct some of the most interesting things down there."

"What?" Napoleon bit his bottom lip to keep from grunting in pain.

"I thought perhaps a firsthand account might show you the infinite humor in what I experienced this morning. Afterwards, we can both sit around and have a good laugh about the pain. And don't worry, Napoleon, it'll be just like trying to push a water buffalo out of your ass… Or a Sherman tank; by that point, I couldn't tell which."

"That's reassuring."

"Wasn't meant to be." Illya picked up the jar and tucked it into his pocket. "And you should be fine in a couple hours or so Section Eight tells me…"

"Illya… what did you slip me?"

"Something that Section Eight has been testing. I hear it has some interesting properties. They should be along in about ten minutes to check on you." Illya picked up the report and touched his finger to his forehead. "Now if you will excuse me, I'm due back down in Medical for a follow up."

Napoleon's eyes narrowed. "I'll have your balls for breakfast."

Illya leaned back through the door, "Here, have my 'son' instead. It will help you focus on the problem at hand… so to speak." He tossed the jar towards Napoleon, but it landed in the trashcan with a solid 'thunk.' Napoleon decided that was as good a place for it as any.

Napoleon walked quietly into the apartment and glanced around. His suitcase wasn't standing by the door and his stuff wasn't piled outside on the street. That was a good sign.

On the other hand, the living room light was out. They both made it a habit to keep that one light on until the other returned. The fact that no lights were on was disquieting. As his eyes grew used to the dim light, he could see that the bedroom light was on.

Illya flicked a look up over the top of his glasses and returned to the book he was reading as Napoleon entered. Illya was actually wearing pajamas - another bad sign. He might as well be wrapped in barbed wire; it sent the same message.

"Are we talking?" Napoleon asked softly from his spot by the door.

"I don't know. Are we?" Illya's voice was neutral.

"I'm sorry I gave you a bad time, but you didn't have to drug me." Illya flipped another page in the book and Napoleon urged, "Um, isn't there something you're sorry for?"

"No, I asked nicely, I demanded and you refused to listen to me. I decided that you needed to be taught a small lesson in knowing when enough was enough. When other methods failed, I selected another course of action."

"Oh." Napoleon sat down on the edge of the bed. "Am I even in here tonight?"

"Unless you choose to sleep somewhere else; it is up to you."

"I'd rather be with you… and I truly am… sorry." Napoleon sighed. "It just seemed so funny…. then."

"Not as much now that you've had a similar experience?"

"Definitely not as much now. I just got a little carried away. I didn't mean to, I was just so worried about you… and scared. I didn't know what was wrong with you. You were in so much pain and I couldn't stop it. And when I found out, I was so relieved, I'm afraid my relief chose a poor path to express itself."

"As it is your nature to do." Illya closed the book and studied him for a moment. "I apologize for drugging you. Was it truly painful?"

"That wasn't the worst part. Section Eight was all over me, oh so happy that I'd volunteered to field test the stuff for them. I don't know what you told them, but they bought it hook, line, and sinker. We should hit THRUSH with that stuff; it had me down for most of the morning. We'd be able to waltz in, take what we want, and leave and they wouldn't be able to stop us. I can't wait until we have that stuff in our sleeper bullets."

"I'm sure your name will ring long and loud within the corridors of Research. They'd been looking for someone to try it out for a week now."

"You're welcome." Napoleon toed off his shoes, lifted his legs to the bed and stretched out. "Do you suppose that's what it really feels like? To give birth?"

"No desire to do further research." Illya set his book on the nightstand and set his glasses on top of it. "I, for one, have had my fill on the subject."

"Still, it gives you a whole new appreciation for what women go through. And that they go through it willingly."

"My mother said that childbirth kills brain cells. She said otherwise women would never have a second child." He pushed the sheets aside and slid between them.

"By the way, I pulled the jar out of the trash for you. I think you should do something with it."

"Such as?" Illya's voice was cautious.

"I don't know… you could always make something out of it."

"Why? So I can brag about my son, the tie tack?"

"Just a thought…" Napoleon rose and got ready for bed. The light was off when he returned and he climbed into the bed. He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. After the day they'd had, it should be easy to fall asleep tonight. He's almost drifted off when he heard Illya's soft murmur.

"Me… he looks more like me. And I think Shale…"

Napoleon reached out and found Illya's hand. "I'd prefer Steel…"


End file.
